


it's because he's pretty

by PeppDream (Pep_Pizza)



Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Dreamwastaken, Four Muffinteers, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, dreamnotfound - Fandom, gream
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Beaches, Bromance, Developing Friendships, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Hugs, M/M, Mermaid GeorgeNotFound, Mermaids, Misunderstandings, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Near Death Experiences, Ocean, Promises, Surfing, Swearing, Teasing, Tentacles, but thankfully not in front of Bad, dreamnotfound, it's bioluminescent too!, kind of?, with a pretty blue tail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pep_Pizza/pseuds/PeppDream
Summary: “Your tail is pretty.”“Thank you,” George blinks back, and before he can stop himself he blurts, “You'repretty.”--George is an obedient, little merperson. He never talks to humans, the most of his human-related activities limited to collecting their weird little artifacts.But then George meets Dream, the prettiest being in existence. And faced with a choice, George doesn't think he can be obedient any longer.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 67
Kudos: 343





	1. really pretty

**Author's Note:**

> I know there's already plenty of mermaid AU fics out there, but this is my own little idea to add to the mix :) Enjoy!
> 
> This work was inspired by a combination of [this artwork](https://peppdream.tumblr.com/post/635098297937362944/ahhhhh-georges-tail-is-sooo-pretty-someone) and [this BTS fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26815540).

Other people tell George to stay away from humans. They warn him that humans are dangerous, greedy, selfish creatures. Because George is an obedient little merperson, he listens to the warnings, and stays away from humans.

...though, it didn’t mean he was any less curious about them.

Humans make funny things, George thinks. And a lot of the funny things they make also end up getting tossed into the ocean, free for George to scavenge to his heart’s content. There’s these long, clear-looking containers that George likes to use for storing his shiny pebbles, for instance. And wrinkly soft things, that act as a much sturdier alternative to seaweed ropes. Once he even found one of those eyewear things that humans always wear while swimming, perched on their noses for seemingly no reason. George had tried it on himself to see what it was all about, but it only made everything dark and harder to swim. It’s harmless when placed above his forehead though, and since George feels cooler with it on, he keeps the human artifact on him.

Unfortunately, he gets a lot of distasteful looks for his decisions. “Where did you get that?” the adults would always ask him, “Have you been hanging out around humans?”

And his answer would always be, “No, of course not.” And they’d give him that squinty-eyed look like they don’t quite believe him, except they can’t really prove otherwise because it’s _true_. George _doesn’t_ hang out around humans, ever. He just thinks the things they make are cool.

Well, okay. It _used_ to be true. But it’s not anymore, because George found something interesting the other day. Or, more like, found some _one_.

Like every other sunrise, when the light was just peeking over the horizon and the beach was still deserted of humans, George had swam to the coast to go looking for more human treasures. Maybe this time there would be one of those spoon things they use to make sandhouses, or maybe he’d find something new. He never knew what to expect, and that’s why he looked forward to these trips so much.

But of course, George’s expedition has to come to an abrupt end when he notices silhouettes of humans on the beach. George jerks his tail and immediately dives behind a rocky outcrop, growling at his misfortune. Of course, his hunt for human-treasures was being interrupted by the very humans themselves. His fins flick in irritation. How disappointing.

Normally, this would’ve been the point where George turned tail and fled the scene, possibly to go raid a different coast for human-inventions. But he stops, when he hears a strange, distinctive noise. It’s like… the sound of someone _dying_. (George would know, having seen so many humans nearly drown when they underestimate the ocean’s currents.)

He peeks just over the edge of the rock, single eyebrow cocked up, trying to investigate the source of the noise, and he just _freezes_. Because _oh_.

That human is really pretty.

Golden locks with brown streaks, scattered messily above his head. A toned torso, tan and muscular all over (and George is, upsettingly, a little jealous). The area around his cheeks and nose are tinted bright pink, and George connects the occurrence to that thing that happens when humans stay too long in the sun. The human is mesmerizing to look at, for reasons that George can’t quite place. George doesn’t think he’s ever seen a being _that_ beautiful before. All merpeople are good-looking, it’s just a thing that they’re gifted with, but even still George cannot recount a single mermaid that looks _quite_ as jaw-dropping as this human does.

Said human is also the source of the dying noise, and George realizes he’s _laughing_ , not actually suffocating to death or something. He’s with another darker-haired friend of a shorter stature, and the two are both carrying giant plank-like things, heading closer to the water with every second that George waits. 

George really should’ve left then. He found the source of the noise, his curiosity was satiated, there was nothing else left to do, right?

He stayed.

Stayed and watched as the two friends shouted while splashing at each other, watched as they laid themselves onto their respective planks and paddled out into the water. George has seen this activity happen from a distance before, but he never stayed long enough to actually _see_ the full thing play out. He tells himself he’s only staying to watch them use the boards, and then he’d leave.

“Hey Nick! Let’s see who can stay on longer!” 

“Oh, you are going _down_.”

The two suddenly reposition themselves on their planks, settling into a crouched position. George watches with fascination at the ease in which they sail across the incoming wave, excited laughter ringing out into the atmosphere. Like the pretty one had predicted, his friend (Nick?) ends up falling off first. This leads to several victory woots, which leads to a break in his concentration, his loss of balance resulting in his fall as well. George can’t help giggling at the sight.

The two repeat this process several times, of returning to the beach, paddling back into the water, and gliding for maybe half a minute before falling off again. They almost never _don’t_ fall. Even though the activity appears pointless from George’s standpoint, it’s still amusing as hell to watch. George is only a spectator, yet he’s having the time of his life giggling at their idiotic shenanigans.

When the sun is finally higher in the sky and the size of the waves diminish, the two finally end their activity and the pretty boy disappears, like they were never there to begin with. Almost like George had just imagined it all, as if it were all just a dream. 

George realizes with a startle that he had ended up staying for the whole duration of their activity, and he hadn’t even realized. 

* * *

Darryl is George’s best friend. He doesn’t think George’s fascination with human stuff is strange, rather, he actually appreciates all the practical utilities George has created with them. He isn’t patronizing, nor judgemental. He “oohs” at his pebble collection, “ahhs” at his bracelets made of seashells and the wrinkly rope stuff, and never gives him that funny look all adults do.

But, uh, Darryl isn’t a merperson. He’s a grindylow.

Grindylows, according to merpeople, are ugly and terrifying creatures. They’re tentacled demons that grab human children from the edges of lakes, dragging them into the water to suffocate them. Darryl is the only grindylow in their region for miles around, so the merpeople have actually deigned a simple way to refer to him — too lazy to learn his actual name, they had deferred to calling him “Bad.” It was such a crude and thoughtless name, George felt awful just imagining being called it, even if Darryl pretended not to mind.

And this is one of the reasons George doesn’t always trust the word of his own species, because Darryl is anything _but_ ugly and terrifying. On the contrary, Darryl is probably the nicest, most wholesome person George knows. He’s isn’t remotely close to ugly either, the little horns on his head only adding to his harmless charm. George always tells Darryl this, because despite Darryl’s constant peppy attitude, he knows that the grindylow can still feel hurt from insults and rumors.

“You didn’t find anything on the coast?” Darryl asks George when he’s returned from his expedition. After George showed Darryl around his cenote where he keeps his collection of human artifacts, Darryl gained a habit of waiting there for him after every sunrise to marvel at human stuff with him.

“Nope,” George admits, “I uh, got distracted.”

Darryl curiously props up his chin with one of his tentacles. “By what?”

George hesitates at first, but reminds himself that this is Darryl. He can trust Darryl. “A human.”

Darryl’s eyes widen. “Did you get seen—?

“No, no, nothing like that,” George shakes his head, feeling his cheeks turn pink upon realizing he doesn’t have an easy way of explaining himself. “Just, uhm… well, I was watching them.”

And then he explained how he had watched the two humans play together, always laughing, and witnessed firsthand their adventures skimming across the surface of the water like they weighed nothing.

“Oh! So they were surfing,” Darryl concludes.

“They were… what?”

“Surfing,” Darryl repeats, his tentacles idly jingling around one of George’s pebble jars. “It’s just what humans call it.”

“Surfing,” George echoes, trying it out on his tongue. He supposes it makes sense, since “surf” referred to the line of foam formed by waves. “How do you know that?”

Darryl pauses, looking wide-eyed. “Um… I just heard some people talk about it before.”

“You got close enough to humans to _listen_ in on them?” George balks, his jaw dropping open, and Darryl sheepishly touches the back of his head with one of his appendages.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” George frowns, “What if someone saw you?”

“It’s _fine_ , George,” Darryl grins teasingly, “I mean, think about it. How are we supposed to drag children into the water if we don’t get close to them?”

George crosses his arms and huffs as Darryl giggles. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m just kidding, George,” the grindylow hums good-naturedly. “Yes, I was in a perfectly safe scenario. You don’t need to worry about me.”

George lets out a sigh of relief. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know,” Darryl smiles at him thankfully. “But I’m always careful, really. It’s not that hard to avoid people’s eyes if you know where to hide.”

George perks up at that. “You know places to hide?”

Darryl rolls his eyes at George’s interested expression. “George, do _not_ get ideas. I am _not_ going to give you more reasons to approach humans.”

“Aww, but why _not?_ ” George groans, twisting around in the water in pretend-agony, “ _You’re_ allowed to do it!”

“I’ve also been alive much longer than you have,” Darryl points out. “I have a lot more experience, so I know my way around these things.”

George grumbles, but he doesn’t have anything to say against it. Darryl _is_ older than George by about a decade or two, so the point isn’t exactly refutable. “This is so unfair.”

Darryl places a reassuring tentacle on George’s arm. “Just stay safe, George. Don’t do anything rash.”

“Obviously,” George snorts. “I know that.”

* * *

So… George ends up going back to the beach the next day to look for Dream.

George never actually learned the pretty boy’s name, but when the two humans had disappeared like a dream, George’s brain had automatically made the connection and he couldn’t let go of it. So Dream it was.

He had arrived at the location a bit earlier than usual, and he was not disappointed. The two boys arrived right at sunrise, still carrying their “surfboards.” (Darryl had filled George in on the terminology, and George felt quite proud of himself for remembering it.) Seeing Dream again felt like a blast of fresh air. George’s skin was clearer, his spirits higher, he didn’t know how to explain it. Just _looking_ at the human made him feel good. It was the weirdest fucking thing ever.

Nonetheless, George ducks behind the same rock and watches them again, tail swaying excitedly as he spectates. They’re both messing up significantly less than last time. Dream always wheezes when he falls off his board though, so George is always half-worried the human is drowning, but that (thankfully) never turns out to be the case. Both of the boys appear to be good, capable swimmers.

There was one particular feat Dream attempted, a complicated maneuver in mid-air that left him spinning out of control, and the result of his miserable failure as he was sent plummeting into the sea only caused George to burst into a chorus of giggles. Except, he’s so busy laughing that it takes him a second to realize Dream is looking at George’s rock. His eyes are trained right in his direction, confused but interested.

George has never dove underwater so fast in all of his life.

* * *

“I think he might’ve seen me,” George rushes to explain.

“Wh-what?” Darryl turns, a concerned expression on his face. “Who?”

“The humans from yesterday,” George rambles, “Er, well, actually just one of them. I think he might’ve seen me, but I’m not sure—”

“ _George_ ,” Darryl lets out an exasperated sigh, “You seaweed-head— you said you wouldn’t do anything rash?”

“I _didn’t_ do anything rash,” George repeats after him, crossing his arms indignantly, “I only watched at a distance, just like last time. I _promise_ I was hiding.”

“You must not have hid very well then,” Darryl notes with a raised brow, “If you think they saw you.”

“And whose fault is _that?_ ” George snorts. “You refused to help me out when I asked for it, so I don’t think I’m really to blame here.”

“I… It’s not I don’t _want_ to, George,” Darryl explains, nervously twiddling his tentacles, “Just, I don’t want to _encourage_ you to seek out danger, you know?”

“...I know,” George turns his head away. “Yeah, I get it.”

“If it’s just one guy though,” Darryl offers sympathetically, “Maybe others won’t believe him if he tells other humans about you. We’re only mythical creatures in their eyes anyway.”

George thinks about that, and realizes it’s true. “It’s not like he even saw my tail or anything,” George realizes, gently touching the fins on the sides of his head. “If he just saw these, it’d be hard for him to deduce exactly _what_ he was seeing.”

“You’re probably fine,” Darryl agrees, “But you probably shouldn’t go back either.”

George hesitates at the suggestion. He doesn’t know why, but the thought of _not_ seeing Dream again didn’t sit well with him. “Or,” he perks up his eyebrows, “Show me how you listen in on humans. Teach me how to hide from them better.”

“ _No_ , George.”

“Come _on_ , Bad, _please!_ ” George takes Darryl’s hands in his, trying to convey just how much he wants to. “Are you gonna go see any humans today? You could just take me with you, I swear I wouldn’t get in the way—”

“N- _no_ ,” Darryl replies, in an obviously lying manner, because Darryl is bad at lying and George can see right through him. “I’m not seeing _any_ humans today and, even if I were, I can’t take you along George. It just wouldn’t work out.”

George tilts his head. “Why _wouldn’t_ it work out?”

Darryl sputters a bit before tearing himself away. “ _George_ ,” he warns, clearly wanting the conversation to end.

George lets out a breath. “Fine,” he says, “don’t let me come with you. Whatever. I don’t care.”

So George lets the topic go, and they go about doing their normal activities, making necklaces out of circular “plastic” (as Darryl put it) things and decorating the cenote’s walls with fronds of marine debris. Because Darryl has multiple appendages, he can do things at a much more efficient pace than George, and it truly was a spectacle watching him go about his activities, tentacles working left and right.

Finally, when all the items have been assorted, the two are ready to bid their goodbyes. Darryl waves one of his tentacles before floating away, and George waves back, swimming around the ridge of a large rock so that he’s out of sight.

Only to turn back around, peeking around the corner to watch Darryl’s movements through the dark water. The curiosity was burning in the pit of George’s chest, a nagging intensity of hope. George _had_ to know how to approach humans without being seen, if he wanted to see Dream again. He was going to follow the grindylow today, whether he liked it or not. 

Darryl swims at a moderately fast pace, every once in a while casting a glance over his shoulder. George is quick to notice these indicators though, always ducking just in time behind some seaweed or a cliff-face of a boulder. He’s even turned off the luminescent nature of his tail, to give himself better coverage. He’s actually quite proud of himself for it — perhaps he was a better hider than he gave himself credit for. Surely, his fluke from earlier today was just that: entirely an accident.

A few minutes later, and Darryl has stopped being so cautious. He swims at a much faster pace, recklessly gliding through open waters. George realizes they’re actually heading towards a dock directly adjacent to the beach Dream and his friend surfed on. The proximity makes George’s insides hum in excitement. He _knew_ following Darryl had been a good idea. All he had to do now was wait and see what Darryl did, then copy his strategies when he visited Dream next time.

George pops his head out of the water, scanning his surroundings. Because of the dark sky, George can’t really see how many humans are on the dock. The grindylow had swam directly towards the wooden structure though, so George figures there must not be many around, if he was that unafraid of being seen. Still, George proceeds cautiously, trying his best not to lose sight of Darryl. 

George’s attention is momentarily pulled away, once he’s gotten close enough to the human structure to actually _see_ who’s present. With a yelp, George ducks his head back underwater. There _was_ , in fact, a human on the dock. Just a single one, but George reminds himself to be careful. He can _not_ be seen and only end up proving Darryl right.

“Oh!” The human on the dock shouts out, clearly in delight. “ _There_ you are! I thought you weren’t going to show up.”

George frowns, slowly raising just his eyes above the water. There isn’t any second human in sight, to George’s surprise — it’s still just the one. Said human is now leaning over the edge of the dock, his head pointed towards the water.

“Hey Zak,” comes the response, and George’s eyes widen at the sound of the voice. “Sorry for being late, I just thought someone was following me.”

“Following you? Why would anyone do that?”

“I dunno, honestly,” a huff. “But better safe than sorry, right?”

George moves his position so that he can get the full picture, and what he sees confirms his suspicions: the dark-haired human is crouched over the dock, and the face sticking out of the water is none other than Darryl’s.

Darryl, who claimed to only listen in on humans, was actually _talking directly to one_. And it didn’t sound like it was his first time, either.

George feels his heart ricochet around his chest and, without a word, he dives back into the ocean, swimming away as fast as he can, his mind whirling with what he had seen.

* * *

The next day, George is waiting at the same beach again.

Sure, George wanted to see Dream again, but there was more to it this time. George felt like it was only fair to go against Darryl’s suggestions, when his friend was such a hypocrite himself. Why was Darryl allowed to get close to humans, and George couldn’t? What kind of flawed reasoning was that?

So George waited for sunrise to come. 

Right on time, Dream makes his appearance. A flutter of relief settles in George’s chest at the sight of the pretty boy. But this time, his friend Nick isn’t with him. George curiously watches, peeking out from behind a different rock this time. (He most definitely wasn’t going to use the same hiding place twice.)

Dream seems to be looking for something. Head turning left and right, he sets his board down on the sand before striding to the water’s edge. George is confused. What is Dream _doing?_

“Hello?” Dream suddenly shouts, and George jerks in surprise at the greeting, only to realize it wasn’t directed at him. Dream was merely staring out into the ocean, his gaze intense as he watches the horizon.

“...I know you’re there,” Dream continues after a pensive silence. “I saw you yesterday, you know. There’s no point in hiding.”

Aaaaand George does a double-take, realizing Dream _is_ , in fact, addressing him.

A small smile plays on Dream’s lips, and George feels himself melt at the sight. “Come on, now. Are you shy? Or do you just plan on stalking us without ever showing yourself?”

George is now faced with a serious dilemma. Obviously, the correct choice was to not show himself. It’s what merpeople have ingrained into him for ages, that you could _not_ associate with humans, that the instant you gave them an inch they’d take more than a mile. George was already breaking so many rules, just _being_ here. Could he really bring himself to do more?

Then George remembers how easily Darryl had approached that “Zack” human, and he’s suddenly seeing the situation is a much different light.

“I’ll wait,” Dream crosses his arms, and George suddenly decides, _yeah, you know what?_

_...Why the hell not?_

Dream had sat crossed-legged next to his board, still quietly gazing out at the ocean. George carefully dives back under the water, moving his tail with minimal movements to prevent loud splashing. After surveying the whole beach to make sure no one else is present but Dream, George allows the upper-half of his face to appear above the water.

It takes a second for Dream to notice him, but when he does, he clearly jumps a little. “OH.” The human blinks at George, eyes darting around his face, and after the initial surprise fades away, a smile splits across his face. George feels his chest thrumming with adoration. “...hi?”

“H-hi,” George blinks back, suddenly feeling shy. God, he is breaking _so many rules_ right now, but he doesn’t even care. He’s talking to _Dream_. The prettiest human in existence. George really doesn’t give a shit about anything else right now.

Dream stands slowly, as if not wanting to startle George. “You’re not human, are you?” he asks, tapping his ears in question. George nods, but he doesn’t reply. He’s kind of intimidated right now, if he’s being honest. Up this close, he realizes that Dream has a much larger frame than him. 

George doesn’t dare swim closer to the shore, but Dream seems to understand. He grabs his board and takes it upon himself to wade out into the water instead, quickly drifting his way over to George. “Are you a mermaid?”

George is _so_ nervous. He wonders if Dream can tell. “Mer _man_ ,” he corrects with a pout, and Dream laughs. It’s a nice sound — much better than the wheezing alternative where he sounds like a dying dolphin.

“Wow,” Dream echoes, having finally floated his board out far enough so that they’re only a couple feet apart. His eyes are trained at the water, clearly trying to make out the shape of George’s tail. George knows it’s kind of hard to see, since they’re almost the same color. It was kind of the whole point, to make merpeople tails less detectable by human eyes. “That is _so_ cool. So merpeople are actually real?”

“Nah, I’m just your imagination,” George offers, and Dream giggles again.

“Your tail is pretty.”

“Thank you,” George blinks back, and before he can stop himself he blurts back, “ _You’re_ pretty.”

Dream lights up, clearly pleased with the compliment. “Is that why you decided to show yourself?”

“... _no_ ,” George replies a little too late, distracted by the freckles on Dream’s nose, which only causes Dream to wheeze in delight. Their interactions are so… _comfortable_. Not awkward or scary like George thought talking to a human would be. Finding himself letting down his guard, he swims a little closer to the surfboard.

“What’s your name?”

George pauses. “George,” he eventually answers. “You?”

“Clay,” the human replies instantly, and George likes it. The human’s name reminds him of the collection of little clay statues he has hidden away in his cenote.

“How do you breathe?” Clay blurts. “Do you actually use your nose?”

“Yes,” George answers, warily placing his hands on the edge of the board. Clay’s eyes flicker over, clearly intrigued by his webbed fingers. They’re so close now, George could just reach out and touch Clay’s leg if he wanted to. God, George could actually _see_ human legs up-close now. Just the thought was thrilling. “Gills for underwater, though.”

George just can’t get enough of Clay’s awed expressions. “So you _can_ breathe normally?”

“Yup.”

“So you don’t actually need to be in the water to…?”

George snorts, settling his arms onto the board. It’s rocking a little bit because of the waves, but it’s overall quite steady and can hold his weight well. “Not really a contender for legs,” he points out, creating a harmless splash in Clay’s direction with his tail. “And we can still dry up. Unlike humans, breathing isn’t what’s stopping us from hanging out on land.”

Clay hums thoughtfully, the look of fascination never leaving his eyes. “I’m surprised you showed yourself so easily. Aren’t you supposed to keep your existence a secret?”

George shrugs. “If you don’t say anything, it’ll still be one, won’t it?”

A flash of understanding crosses Clay’s features. “Yeah, of course,” he promises. “I won’t say a word.”

“Good,” George huffs with a smile. “I’m not sure if I could drown you if it came down to it.”

Clay snorts. “Yeah, I’m a pretty good swimmer,” he comments, completely missing the point of George’s statement. His eyes flicker to the horizon, “Say, you wanna watch me surf?”

George feels his fins perking in interest. “...is Nick not coming?”

“Nope,” Clay pops the ‘p’ in his reply. “It’s just us today.”

“Then…. y-yeah,” George breathes, unable to hold back his smile. “I wanna see.”

George spends the rest of the early morning swimming next to Clay as he surfs the waves, laughing when the human messes up, or scaring him by popping out of the water at random intervals. Their difference in their appendages is never an issue — they’re just two creatures out in the water, having fun, and that was all there was to it.

George has never had this much fun in his life before. Other merpeople tend to avoid George because of his “weird fascination with humans,” but hanging out with Clay was so _easy_. It was _freeing_. Laughter shared between them was effortless — it took very little to make Clay laugh, and because it was contagious, George giggled throughout their activity until he felt like his lungs might burst.

“I’ll get going now,” Clay had announced after one particularly stupid stunt where he tried to surf while doing a handstand. George had been impressed at first, and laughed himself silly afterwards when Clay had been flung off like a rag doll.

“Okay,” George had beamed, “Are you gonna come back tomorrow, Dream?”

Clay tilts his head. He still looks nice, even when his hair is dripping wet and matted all over his forehead. “Dream?”

George blinks, turning pink upon realizing his mistake. “C-Clay,” he corrects. 

“Um, yeah,” Clay nods, still looking confused at George’s slip-up. “But Nick will be coming too.”

“...Oh.”

“You probably don’t want him to know, I’m guessing?”

George nods. “The less people that know, the better.”

“Okay,” Clay had smiled, “But you should really be more careful, George. Don’t let more people catch sight of you like you let me catch sight of you, yeah?”

“I’ll be careful,” George had promised. And a wave later, Clay had disappeared like a dream again. George watched the empty beach for a couple seconds later before diving back into the water himself, his insides tingling with happiness.

* * *

George is so ecstatic about his time with Clay that he almost forgets about Darryl’s little meet-up with his own human.

“George!” Darryl had greeted at their cenote. “Did you not find anything again?”

George faintly realizes he hasn’t gone artifact-collecting for three days now. Not that he can be blamed for it, really, with the appearance of Clay and all. “Darryl,” he starts, then hesitates.

“What?”

George opens his mouth, but then stops himself. He’s suddenly not so sure he wants to quiz Darryl about his private meeting anymore. After all, if Darryl wants to keep his secrets, then he can’t blame George for keeping secrets of his own, right?

“You wanna go help me go look for some?” He says instead.

And Darryl lights up, nods, and they go swimming out in search of treasures together. Neither of them bring up anything about humans for the rest of the day.

* * *

“George?”

George pokes his head out from behind his hiding rock in question, and at Clay’s nod, he briskly swims over. “No Nick today?”

“Taking a break,” Clay confirms, a smirk on his face as he enters the water on his surfboard. “Sunburns. I warned him, and he didn’t listen.”

“Oh. Is that when humans turn all pink?” Clay nods, and George’s gaze travels to his hands. “What are you _holding?_ ”

“Popsicles!” Clay snickers, handing one over. “I figured you’ve probably never had one before, being a mermaid and all.”

“Mer _man_ ,” George corrects again, carefully scrutinizing it. It’s a shiny, blue thing attached to a stick. He swims forward a little closer and feebly accepts it, copying the way Clay holds it. “What do I do with it?”

“You eat it,” Clay replies, licking his own in demonstration. At George’s doubtful look, he laughs. “It’s good, I promise! Go on, just try it.”

George slowly copies Clay’s action, and his tongue meets cold. Then flavor is bursting across his tongue, sending a delicious tingle across his mouth. “Oh my god.” George does it again. The distinctive flavor rockets across his taste buds, leaving a refreshing trail in its wake. “What _is_ this? It’s so...”

“Sweet?” Clay fills in for him, absentmindedly sucking on his own treat. “Yeah, it is.”

“I’ve never had anything like it,” George admits. “It’s so _cold_ but… it tastes _amazing_. Oh my god. Why does it taste so good?”

Clay wheezes at George’s awed expression. “I knew it. You’ve never eaten sweet things before, have you?”

“How do humans come _up_ with this stuff?” George wonders aloud, very greedily ingesting his ‘popsicle’. The way it melts in his mouth is _astounding_. “This is very impressive.”

Clay gives a mischievous grin. “I can buy you more… if you do something for me.”

Oh no. George feels himself hesitating. Was this where the “humans taking advantage of merpeople” thing came in? “...what?”

“Can you sing?”

And George snorts, quietly relieved at the innocence of the question. “You’re such an idiot. You’re mixing us up with sirens.”

“So you don’t lure humans into the water with pretty songs?”

“ _No_ , of course not,” George answers, realizes a second later that Clay is joking, and promptly splashes the human with a flick of his tail. It’s not a very ferocious splash though, and Clay giggles as the droplets land on him.

“But you can still sing, can’t you?”

George scrunches up his eyebrows. “Well… I guess so.”

Clay is wiggling his eyebrows. It’s clear what he wants. “So…?”

“I don’t know if it’s worth trading my voice for some measly ‘popsicle’,” George retorts teasingly. More than anything, he’s just embarrassed at the thought of singing to a human. All merpeople have good voices, George _knows_ that, but he’s just not sure if he’s ready for that yet.

Thankfully, Clay doesn’t really push it. “It’s up to you,” he laughs.

But because Clay is pretty and the sound of his laughter enamours George, George feels himself stutter out a reply. “Maybe someday, Dream.”

A beat of silence. “...Again,” Clay raises an eyebrow, “You called me that again.”

“O-oh,” George’s eyes widen. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Clay tilts his head, “Just, can I ask why…?”

“W-well…” George blushes pink, “The first time I saw you, uhm. You were so pretty, I thought… you were a dream.”

And Clay wheezes _so_ loudly that George would’ve been concerned, if it were anyone else _but_ Clay. “Oh my _god_ ,” he cackles, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “That’s so cute, George. You can call me Dream, if you want.”

George is, understandably, embarrassed. “I dunno…”

“If you’re gonna keep mistaking me for a dream,” Clay chuckles, “I think I might as well start getting used to it, right?” His entire popsicle has disappeared, leaving only the stick.

“Can I have that?” George blurts before he can stop himself (and also to change the subject, but Clay doesn’t need to know that).

Clay looks confused. “Have… what?”

“That,” George points.

“The… the popsicle _stick?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“I collect human stuff,” George admits, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious about it, but it only leads him to babble more: “It’s just a hobby of mine, I uh, I like looking for things humans drop into the water. There’s a lot of cool and interesting things, and I think it’s fun...”

“George,” Clay is frowning, “That’s… trash.”

For a second, George is offended. “Excuse me?”

“The stuff humans throw in the water,” Clay explains, “It’s stuff we don’t need anymore, stuff we throw away. And that stuff pollutes the oceans, kills sea animals, it’s… it’s trash, George.”

“It’s not trash to _me_ ,” George whispers, suddenly feeling unsure.

Clay extends his arm. He’s offering the popsicle stick. “I’m not saying it’s bad to collect it,” he notions, head tilted. “If anything, it’s a good thing…? You’re reducing the amount of debris in the ocean through your hobby.”

“...yeah.” George feels better after hearing that. As he takes Clay’s stick, their fingers brushing, he has a sudden idea. “Do you wanna see?”

“See what?”

“My collection,” George rushes, before he can change his mind. “I keep all my stuff organized in a cenote — it’s a secret place no humans know about — and since it’s half above-water, you could see some of it. If you want to?”

A slow grin spreads across Clay’s freckled cheeks. “Really? You’d be willing to do that for me?”

George nods. “I have one other friend that knows about the place, but if I just find a time he doesn’t visit, you could technically come see.”

“Then… yeah.” Clay’s eyes are bright. With an expression like that, he looks prettier than ever. “I’d love to go see it, George.”

* * *

Clay is wide-eyed. “This is…?”

“Welcome to my abode,” George grins, stretching out his arms and swimming in a circle. “Or, well, not really. But it feels like home to me.”

“ _Wow_ ,” Clay echoes, his eyes wandering around the cenote, taking in every corner and wall, decorated top to bottom with human things: bottles, brushes, bags, sticks, eyewear, pails and toy shovels — he has it _all_. And this was only what was above the water. George is quite proud of himself for it, knowing it’s taken him many years to attain the level of collection he has now, but also a bit nervous as he watches Clay’s reaction, peeking over the edge of the hole. 

“Um, you can come get a closer look,” George offers after a couple seconds, “If you can climb down.”

“Holy shit, this place is so _cool_ ,” Clay blabbers, swinging his leg over the edge to shimmy down the wall, “And it’s so _well_ - _hidden_? It took me ages to find it even with your instructions.”

“That’s the whole _point_ ,” George rolls his eyes. “If humans found this place, it wouldn’t be secret anymore.”

“ _I’m_ human.”

George opens his mouth to retort, but he can’t think of anything to say. Clay _is_ human. But why is he trusting a human with this place? “...yeah.”

Once Clay reaches the bottom of the wall, he plops himself into the water. “Seriously,” he continues, gesturing to his surroundings, “How long did this _take_ you?”

“A long time,” George answers vaguely.

“It’s _amazing_.”

George feels himself flush with pride. “Thank you.”

“Just… wow.” The awe in Clay’s voice persists as he treads water, scanning over the rows and rows of items George had neatly arranged. “Tell me about it?”

George tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a story behind all these, yeah?”

So George talks. He talks about his close-calls, his favorite objects, the inventions he thinks look the funniest. He points out which things he scavenged from beaches, and what artifacts he discovered buried deep underwater, under the sand where no one but him would look. He shows off his pebble collection, his clay statues, and his shiny conch shells. And to his delight, Clay never looks bored. The human is the best listener George has ever met.

“Did you make these all yourself?” Clay asks, pointing to a couple bracelets hanging off of a few vines, and George shakes his head.

“I had help,” he admits, propelling himself forward with his tail. “You wanna try one on?”

George doesn’t wait for a response though, picking a particularly pretty bracelet made of turquoise seashells. He takes one of Clay’s hands and slips it over his wrist, trying not to think too much about how warm the human’s skin is.

Clay blinks at him, turning his hand side to side. “...’s pretty,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?” George smiles. “Then keep it.”

“R-really?” George nods, and Clay beams. “I… Thank you, George. For showing me this place. I can see it means a lot to you.”

And George admires his cenote, absorbs how nice it is to see such a pretty human sitting among his pretty collections, and he wishes he could store the image in his mind forever. “Of course,” George blinks back, “I wanted to show you, Dream.”

Clay smiles at the usage of the nickname. “You trust me.”

George nervously flicks his fins. “...yeah.” He’s not sure why he does, but it’s true.

“Then,” Clay chuckles, his grin sending George’s heart into a frenzy, “thank you for trusting me.”

* * *

George lights up at the sight of Clay standing alone by himself on the beach. “I thought you said Nick was gonna be coming today?”

Clay shakes his head, already paddling over to George on his surfboard. “Yup. But he’s a scaredy-cat.”

“What do you mean?”

“The weather report said things might get a little stormy,” Clay snorts. “Poor Nick’s scared of a wittle, itty-bitty chance of rain. Which is fine, I mean,“ a shrug, ”it’s a free excuse for us to hang, so.”

George can’t help the happy twitch his ears make when he sees that Clay is wearing the bracelet. “What’s a weather report?”

“Oh. It’s just a thing people use to predict weather conditions.”

George’s mouth drops open. “Humans can see the _future?!_ ”

Clay breaks out into wheezes at George’s exclamation. “Wha- _no_ , George. We just use science and stuff to figure it out.”

“...oh.”

“Not everyone is _magical_ like you are,” Clay playfully flicks George’s arm, and the merman swats his hand away.

“I’m not _magical._ Mythical, maybe. But not magical.”

“Respectfully disagree,” Clay snickers. Before George can retort, Clay jerks a thumb towards the ocean. “Join me in surfing?”

George blinks. “You really just changed the subject like that—” Annnd Clay is already paddling away. “ _Dream,_ WAIT.”

But Clay laughs, showing no signs of stopping. George rolls his eyes, wondering if all humans were as idiotic as Clay, and quickly swims after him.

This morning is much the same as the others. The difference lies in the increased frequency in which the boys come into contact with one another because of their rough-housing tendencies, but overall it’s the same as it’s always been. Over time the sky becomes more cloudy as well, but George doesn’t pay much mind to it. He’s too busy laughing his fins off watching Clay topple into the water when he fails a “cool” move.

“It’s not that funny,” Clay had complained, though a twitch at the edge of his frown betrayed his sentiments.

“It kinda is,” George replies, still twisting around the water in laughter. “You always say you’re gonna look _sooo_ cool doing your next trick, and you always just— _fall over. So dramatically_.”

Clay indignantly crosses his arms. “It _would’ve_ looked cool!” he swears, but George just giggles.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, _really_. I’ve seen all these youtube videos of like, surfers making some _awesome_ moves while soaring over these _huge_ waves…”

George doesn’t know what a “youtube video” is, but he at least understands the second half of Clay’s sentence. “Are these waves not big enough?”

“They’re _okay,_ ” Clay teeter-totters his hand, “But it’d be easier if they were bigger, yeah.”

“I could push you further in,” George offers. “The waves are bigger when there’s bigger expanses of open water.”

Clay’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’d do that?”

“As long as you think it’s safe,” George reminds him. Powerful waves, while serving only as a mild inconvenience to George, would definitely produce a significant struggle for most humans.

Clay is already positioning himself flat against his board. “C’mon, I can swim, can’t I? Let’s _do_ this.”

So George latches onto the back of the board and, using his tail to propel them forwards, Clay and his surfboard begin to make their way deeper into the ocean. Only a few seconds in, and George can already feel an increase in the strength of the ocean’s currents. It laps at the edges of Clay’s board, splashes leaving the board wobbling uncertainly on the water’s surface.

“You doing okay?” George checks in, to which Clay flashes a thumbs-up. So he keeps pushing.

Finally, when the shore is only a thin outline against the horizon, George stops. “Is this far enough?”

Almost as if in response, a large wave descends upon them. They sort of half roll over it, half get drenched by it. Clay skitters across his rocking board and almost falls off it, but he catches himself just in time. 

His eyes widen considerably, when he looks in the direction of the beach. “Whoa. We’re, uh… _really_ far, aren’t we?”

“Did I go overboard?” George asks sheepishly. “I could swim us back a little—”

“George!” Clay interrupts, his voice bright, “do you feel that?”

“Feel… what?”

“It’s raining!”

But their delight quickly turns sour. It all happens so suddenly, the chaos of the storm descending upon them with barely a warning. In no time at all, the light rain immediately turned into a shower, the grey clouds became black, and the angry waves grew in ferocity. The rocking of the board also increases in magnitude, sending them rising up and down. Clay’s knuckles are growing white from how hard he’s clinging onto the board.

“Dream!” George sputters after the two are doused from another wave, “We— we need to go back!”

“But,” Clay hesitates, “you swam us all the way out here—” only to be interrupted by another cascading wave.

“ _Dream_ ,” George shouts over the roaring of the storm, “We’re going back.”

“ _George_ , that’s—” Clay doesn’t get to finish his sentence, the lower half of his body suddenly slipping off. George’s heart drops into his gut, seeing the way Clay so helplessly scrabbles with his hands to cling to his board.

“ _Hold on!_ ” George yells, struggling to pull the board with him towards the shore. His tail and arms are straining with effort. God, it’s so _far away_. Why did he swim out so far? Why did they think this was a good idea? “Don’t let go Dream, I’m gonna take us back—” 

Another wave, the largest one yet, suddenly descends upon them. George flinches as it hits them, his breath getting knocked out of him, but still keeping a secure grip on the board tying himself to Clay. “Dream! Are you okay—”

George freezes, realizing the board is too light. He looks behind him and pales. Clay isn’t on the other end of the board.

“...eorge…!”

George snaps his head towards the call, though the roaring of the waves makes it hard for him to pinpoint exactly where it came from. It sounds so far away. “ _Dream!_ ” He can’t see him. Why can’t he see him? George tries to lug the board along with him, but its buoyant nature makes it difficult to tug along. George glances one last time at the object, and a second later, he lets go of it. “Dream, where are you?!”

No response. _Fuck_. George dives under the water, head turning wildly through the dark waters. His tail begins to glow, illuminating the gloom around him, and George’s eyes widen at the sight of Clay, futilely kicking to the surface. Even for someone like Clay, George knew it was too much to swim through currents during a storm of this caliber.

George has never swam so fast in his life. Quickly wrapping his arms around Clay’s torso, he carries them back up to the surface. The storm is still raging, the ferocious rain pelting them from above. Clay makes choking noises as he resurfaces, his limbs flailing wildly as he tries to stay afloat. 

“Stop _hitting_ me!” George snaps, glancing at the shore. It doesn’t look any closer than before. “I’m keeping you afloat!”

“S-sorry,” Clay breathes, his eyes widening at the sight of George’s bioluminescent tail, and another wave douses the two, plunging them deep under. Bubbles explode around them, like a reverse fountain. Despite Clay’s apology, he continues to kick, like he can’t help it. George knows it’s a survival instinct, but Clay’s actions are making it incredibly hard for him to help.

The two resurface again. “ _Dream_ ,” George shouts, “Clay, calm _down_ —”

“The storm’s so _big_ ,” Clay whimpers, “It’s so _big_ George, how are we going to—”

“We’re _going_ to get out of here,” George promises, trying his best to swim with a goddamn _human_ in his arms, “I’m _not_ going to let you drown Dream—”

Another wave pushes them under, even further than usual. Fuck, Clay is so _heavy_. It makes sense, since he’s the bigger one out of them two, but it really wasn’t making the situation easier for George, even with his incredibly useful tail. With great difficulty, George manages to lug them both back up.

“This is too hard,” George breathes, rain blinding his eyesight, “Dream, I’m going to need you to hold your breath.”

Without waiting for an answer, and to avoid the upcoming wave, George plunges them back into the ocean. It’s still as chaotic down here as it is up there, but by taking away the waves variable, it’s significantly easier to swim. George tightens his grip around Clay, putting every ounce of strength he can into propelling them forwards. He glances at Clay, sees that his eyes are shut tightly, and suddenly realizes he doesn’t know how long humans can hold their breath for.

They emerge from the waters, and George realizes the waves are significantly smaller. He also lights up at the sight of the shore, now only a few yards away from them. “Dream!” George cheers, “Dream, we made it—!”

He stops when there’s no response. Clay’s eyes aren’t opening. Fuck. _Fuck_.

They shoot forward, both of them landing on the surf where the water meets the beach. George doesn’t even care that his tail now feels like a useless limb, lying limply on the ground like an anvil. All he cares about is Clay, the human who isn’t moving, the human whose eyes aren’t opening.

George scrambles to press his head against Clay’s torso. _Heartbeat._ George lets out a huge sigh. It’s okay, he’s okay. George roughly shakes Clay’s shoulders, but there’s still no response from him. It’s scary. Fuck, this was so scary. Should George be worried? God, what was he meant to _do?_

George tries to remember, pushing away the terrified pounding of his heart. He’s seen humans do this before, dragging half-dead people out of the water and getting resurrected. George clasps his hands together and places it over Clay’s slippery chest, pressing down on his front. Was he doing it right? Was this how other humans did it?

George is scared to push too hard — he doesn’t want to hurt Clay. But in a way, he’s _already_ hurt him. Here Clay was lying, maybe on the brink of death or something, and it was all George’s fault. _He_ was the one that pushed them out there, overestimated Clay’s swimming skill, and underestimated the storm Clay literally _warned_ him about.

Clay is still unresponsive, slivers of rain falling off his freckled cheeks like tears. George feels like crying himself. _He_ was the cause of all this. If only he hadn’t met Clay, hadn’t tried interfering with this human’s life, they could’ve just each gone on their own ways, and maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way. 

George suddenly remembers something else humans do, and his eyes travel down to Clay’s lips, wondering if he has the courage to try. But what does he have to lose? All that matters is saving Clay. George gulps and steels himself, carefully placing his hands on the human’s wet cheeks.

Just as he’s started to lean forward, their mouths only centimeters apart, George’s act is interrupted by a shout. He looks up and he feels his heart shrink.

In the distance, Nick is running towards them. There’s a furious (yet terrified) expression on his face, when he takes in the sight of George hunched over Clay, his merman tail in full display. Nick screeches to a halt a few feet away. For a moment the two only stare at each other, the sound of the storm still raging in full force around them.

And without a second to waste, George turns tail and dives back into the ocean.


	2. pretty too

Clay groggily opens his eyes, and seeing the white of the ceiling, he realizes faintly that he’s back at the beach house. Which is weird, since he doesn’t remember coming back.

“Clay?”

Clay blinks, and the fuzzy image of Nick sitting at his bedside becomes clear. “Nick.” 

“I _told_ you it was a bad idea to go surfing in that weather.”

Clay rolls his eyes. Ugh, he feels so _gross_ and bloated. Like he swallowed gallons of seawater or something. “Yeah, yeah.” Normally, he wouldn’t have gone either. But there was a cute merman waiting for him, so who was he to say no? “Were you the one who brought me back?”

“Duh,” Nick retorts, “Who else would haul your stupid ass back from death’s row?”

Clay snorts. “You’re exaggerating.”

“You _looked_ dead. And I had to give you CPR,” Nick shoots back, then hesitates. There’s a strange look in his eyes. “Clay, what _happened?_ Do you remember?”

Clay sits up, the details from earlier suddenly slamming back into him at full-force. They’d gone out into the middle of the ocean, the storm had fallen upon them without a warning, and _George_ had tried his best to save him. But at some point Clay had blanked out and everything was fuzzy after that…

But Clay isn’t going to say that, obviously. He promised George he wouldn’t reveal the existence of their species to anyone, and he sure wasn’t going to be going back on his word now. “Not really,” he lies. “I think I lost my surfboard though. Did you see it anywhere?”

Nick doesn’t seem to hear the question. His hands are twiddling. “Clay, I… I _saw_ something.”

Clay’s eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean?”

“You probably won’t believe me,” his friend continues, “But when I found you at the beach, you weren’t alone.”

Clay blinks. “What?”

“Clay,” Nick continues, his expression incredibly serious, “A mermaid tried to drown you.”

“Merman,” Clay corrects before he can stop himself, and his eyes widen at his mistake, but it’s already too late. Nick definitely _caught_ that, if his surprised look is anything to go by.

“What?” Nick looks _so_ confused. “How did you know… wait. You _knew_ about it?”

Clay suddenly realizes that there’s no point in hiding it anymore, if George let himself get caught. “I know about him, yeah,” he admits. “His name’s George—”

“You know his _name?_ ” The incredulity in Nick’s voice grows. “You’ve _talked_ to him?!”

“Yeah, several times. He’s my friend.” At Nick’s jaw-dropped expression, Clay sighs. “I’m sorry for not telling you. George didn’t want others to know about their existence so—”

“ _Clay_ ,” Nick interrupts him, grabbing his shoulders. “He tried to _drown_ you.”

Clay frowns. “What? No. He tried to save me.”

“What. Are you _kidding_ me?” Nick groans in exasperation, slapping his forehead. “Clay, I _saw_ him hunched over you on that beach, his arms around your _neck_. You were already unconscious, and he was ready to… to _finish you off_.”

“That…” No way. Surely Nick was mistaken. “Why would he even _do_ that? What would he have to gain?”

“I dunno,” Nick shrugs. “Maybe to eat your heart? Suck out your soul? Feed your corpse to their pet shark?”

“George wouldn’t do that.”

Disbelief crosses Nick’s features. “You’re ridiculous. How can you say that? You don’t even _know_ him.”

“I _do_ know him,” Clay argues. He knows George is brave and snarky, rebellious but kind. He has a wonderfully beautiful tail and he’s always giggling with that pretty laugh of his. His face is always pink, despite his claims that merpeople don’t get sunburns. And George was so _pure_ , unknowingly turning the filth of human carelessness into pretty things. And he gave Clay a chance to prove himself as trustworthy, despite him being human. “I know him,” Clay repeats, because he really does. George wouldn’t do anything to harm him.

“You’ve been buttered up,” Nick observes. “Is this why you’ve still been going to the beach without me? _Practicing surfboarding?_ ” Nick puts the words in quotation marks.

Clay smiles embarrassedly, knowing his excuses have been caught. “I guess, yeah.”

“Clay, this isn’t some _Little Mermaid_ fairytale shit. You’ve been hypnotized by that mermaid’s charm.” A beat of silence. “Mer _man_ , whatever. Don’t give me that look.”

“George is a good person,” Clay insists. “You must’ve seen wrong. I _know_ he was trying to save me.” 

Nick chuckles to himself. “And here _I_ thought the problem was making you believe I wasn’t crazy for seeing a mythical sea creature…”

Clay crosses his arms, unable to help his pout. “I’m serious.”

“That’s what all brainwashed people say,” Nick rolls his eyes. “Clay, we should probably avoid going to the beach from now on.”

“ _Whaaat?_ ” Clay’s jaw drops open. “ _No._ ”

“ _Clay_ ,” Nick growls, “You almost _died_.”

“Because of the _storm_ ,” Clay adds. “Not because of George.”

“It could be both,” Nick presses. “Have you considered that maybe George decided to make his move because he knew a storm was coming?”

Clay actually _hadn’t_ considered that. But it had to just be a misunderstanding. Surely it was only an uncanny coincidence lurking behind these events. “It’s not both. George isn’t _like_ that Nick. If you just meet him, you’d know.”

“I _have_ met him,” Nick fires back, raising up his arms. “And he didn’t exactly make a great first impression. He didn’t even _explain_ himself, Clay. He just _ran off_ at the sight of me. If that doesn’t scream _guilty_ , then I don’t know what to say to convince you.”

“Then meet him again,” Clay suggests. “He must’ve been surprised when he saw you. Come with me to the beach and I’ll show you he’s harmless.”

Nick furrows his brows. “I don’t trust this,” he replies. “What if he tries to drown you again?”

“We’ll… stand away from the water,” Clay compromises. “We’ll just talk, several feet apart. That’s okay, right?”

Nick still looks uncertain, but… “Are you sure he’ll even show up?”

“Of course he will,” Clay blinks innocently. “He thinks I’m pretty.”

* * *

“Why are you _bringing_ that?”

“It’s an apology gift,” Clay explains, nervously thumbing the bracelet over his palm. He made it out of blue seashells to match George’s tail, and used wire to string them all together. He hopes George will like it.

“ _Why?_ _He’s_ the one who tried to drown you.”

Clay sends Nick a glare. “It’s… I lost the bracelet he gave to me, during the storm. I wanted to say sorry for losing it.”

Nick sends him back a disbelieving look. “He gave you gifts?”

“Yeah,” Clay smirks. “See? He’s not all _evil_ like you think he is.”

Nick still looks unconvinced. “I bet it was enchanted. To make you trust him, or something.”

“I trusted him _before_ he gave it to me,” Clay rolls his eyes. He doesn’t mention how George was the one who picked out the bracelet for him and suggested he keep it. It’d only make Nick more suspicious for no reason.

“Then maybe it’s enchanted to make you fall in _loooove_ with him.”

Clay opens his mouth. Closes it. Shoves Nick. “You are so dumb. I am not in _love_ with him.”

“‘Course you aren’t,” Nick grins, “The bracelet’s gone now, isn’t it?”

Clay groans. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re not much better,” Nick snorts. “Mermaid lover.”

“Mer _man_.”

“So you _don’t_ deny you’re in love!”

“Shut _up_ , Nick.”

They’ve finally made it to the beach. It’s still dark over the horizon because the sun hasn’t risen yet. They’re here a few minutes early.

“So… are we just waiting for him to pop out, or?”

Clay nods. “He might be hesitant to come out with you next to me though, so I’ll call out for him at sunrise.”

Nick crosses his arms, casting a doubtful look over the water. “There’s no way he’s gonna come,” he taps his foot, “not after I _caught_ him trying to kill you.”

“ _Nick_ ,” Clay sighs exasperatedly, “Just wait, okay? He’ll come.”

“If you say so,” his friend replies gruffly.

The two sit down on the beach and wait. A few minutes later and the tip of the sun shows itself along the horizon, slowly creeping out of its hiding place. There’s still no sign of George yet, though he could just be hiding.

“George?” Clay calls out experimentally. No response. “Probably too early,” he mutters for Nick to hear. It’s not the first time he’s called out without getting a response. He just needs to wait a little.

“How’d you guys meet?” Nick prompts after a moment. “Did he just pop up one day and start talking to you out of nowhere?”

“No,” Clay shakes his head, “I sought him out first.”

“What. No you didn’t.”

Clay snickers. “No really, I did! I just stood right there, and called for him to come out and show himself.”

“And he just _listened_ to you?” 

“Yes, he did.”

Nick grumbles under his breath. “For someone so intent on hiding their identity, he seemed pretty eager to reveal himself to you.”

“I told you! He thinks I’m pretty.”

Nick wrinkles his nose at Clay’s statement. “Why does it sound like you’re just complimenting yourself? Are you sure you’re not making this stuff up?”

“Positive,” Clay laughs quietly.

“A sea creature thinks you’re hot,” Nick snorts. “Unbelievable.”

The sun’s gone a lot higher now. George usually would’ve shown himself by now. “George!” Clay stands, calling out the merman’s name, “Are you there? You don’t have to worry about Nick. He’s just here to talk.”

Clay is met with silence. Huh. Was it still too early? But the sun was almost completely out of the water now. George definitely should’ve been here by this time.

“Is he always this late?”

“Never,” Clay replies honestly, scratching his head in confusion. “He’s never late.”

“Then…?”

“I don’t know,” Clay admits, turning back to Nick. “Do you think something might’ve happened to him?”

Nick stares right back at him with steady eyes. “I’ve been telling you, Clay.”

“What?”

“It’s an admission of guilt,” Nick deadpans. “If he can’t show his face, then it means he knows he’s failed his opportunity to kill you.”

* * *

“No matter how many times we come back, he’s _not_ gonna show up, Clay.”

“No,” Clay denies, trying not to think about the nagging doubt at the back of his mind. “Something must’ve came up for him yesterday. Or maybe he forgot. There could be any number of reasons.”

“What about the one where he’s not showing himself ‘cuz he tried to kill you?”

Clay rolls his eyes. “Not this again, Nick.”

An innocent shrug. “I’m just saying.”

“There might still be a small chance it’s because you’re next to me,” Clay continues, pulling out his phone. “We should try letting me call for him on my own.”

“No.”

“ _Nick_ ,” Clay sighs, “I’m not saying we have to separate. Just… hide somewhere where you can still see me. And we can still communicate over phone.”

A skeptical eyebrow raise. “And that won’t spark suspicion?”

“George doesn’t know very much about human technology,” Clay explains. “If anything, his curiosity might help to draw him out.”

“...okay,” Nick relents, taking out his own phone and dialing Clay’s number. The light from the device illuminates his face in the darkness. “Remember, _don’t_ get too close to the water.”

“Fine, _mom_ ,” Clay retorts, accepting the call. “I’ll be going now.” His voice echoes back at him from Nick’s phone. 

“Just don’t die,” Nick snorts. “Seriously.”

So Clay walks the rest of the journey alone. In just a few minutes, he’s made it to the meeting location. “Made it,” Clay announces, eyes wandering. “Are you nearby?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t see you.”

“That’s the whole _point_ , idiot.”

Clay laughs. “I know. I was just saying.”

He sits on the sand, knees drawn up, and places the phone on the ground next to him. Clay suddenly realizes that it’s cold. Windy. It combs through his hair, his bangs swaying in front of his forehead. Clay’s skin prickles, the feeling of goosebumps growing on its surface. It’s probably always been this way every morning, but Clay hadn’t noticed until now. Maybe because he was lonely. He’s never really been lonely because either George or Nick are always there, but right now it’s just him. 

And Clay has an odd feeling that it’s going to stay that way.

Clay misses George. He knows it’s only been like two days, but because of the stressed terms they left on, Clay feels more stifled about their separation than he usually would. The situation just feels unresolved, somehow. Clay knows he needs Nick and George to meet so that they can talk it out, but the fact that George isn’t even showing up is worrying.

“Are you humming?” comes Nick’s voice from the phone.

Clay blinks out of his haze, realizes the sun is rising. “Maybe,” he answers vaguely.

Nick snorts. “What, has he been singing to you too?”

“...Who? George?”

“Yeah.”

Clay thinks back to the day he asked George to sing. He smiles from the memory of their exchange, and George’s utter fascination with a mere popsicle. He’d looked so cute with that wide-eyed expression of his. “Not yet.”

“What? Not _yet?_ ”

“I asked him to, but he wouldn’t,” Clay explains.

“Probably because he knows it’d hypnotize you if he did,” Nick grumbles disapprovingly.

“Those are sirens,” Clay emphasizes, remembering George’s little mythology lesson. “And I’m pretty sure he’s just shy.”

“It’d hypnotize you either way,” Nick replies, unbothered by Clay’s correction, “seeing how smitten you are with him.”

“ _Whaaaat_ ,” Clay laughs, “You’re such an idiot, Nick.”

“I’m literally the only one thinking reasonably between us two, what do you mean?” Nick huffs, then, “Hey. The sun’s almost completely up.”

Clay had realized. It casts a warm glow over the beach, painting the sky in reds and oranges, erasing the bleak darkness around him. But despite its radiant light, Clay still feels cold. Still feels lonely. “Yeah.”

“...you’re not gonna call out for George?”

“No,” Clay replies, his heart tightening as he realizes it’s true. He can just feel it –- George wouldn’t be coming today. “There’s no point.”

The call goes silent for a moment. “We’ll come back tomorrow?”

Clay lets out a sigh, quietly grateful Nick is willing to keep trying with him. “Yeah,” he agrees, hand frustratedly combing through his hair, “Maybe next time.”

* * *

“It’s been a week, Clay.”

“I know,” Clay grits his teeth, “I _know_.”

Nick lets out a tired sigh. “Dude, what if he just doesn’t want to be found?”

“I don’t… that doesn’t make any sense,” Clay reasons. Why wouldn’t George want to meet him? Clay hadn’t done anything wrong. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely honest. It’s true that Clay lost George’s bracelet. It’s true that he needed to be rescued from drowning. And it’s true that was what caused Nick to find out about merpeople. But… surely that wouldn’t be enough to deter the merman?

Did George just get tired of him? Did he… not find Clay pretty anymore?

“You’re gonna have to give up soon, Clay,” Nick reminds him. “We’re leaving in like, _three_ days.”

Clay knows. He knows, but he _can’t_ leave without at least saying goodbye, and that’s why he realizes he needs to try everything he can. “There’s still one more place I can check. But…” Clay feels himself hesitate. “You can't come with me.”

“What? Why _not?_ ”

“It’s a secret place,” Clay mumbles. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone about it.”

Nick looks just about done with him, and Clay can’t say he isn’t surprised. He knows it’s an unreasonable offer. “You also weren’t supposed to tell anyone about mermaids, and I still found out about it,” he points out.

“But that was George’s own fault,” Clay frowns. “I still kept my word.”

“You…” Nick shakes his head. “You’re so…”

“Look,” Clay tries again, “It’s the only thing I can think of, okay? Just… let me try it. If it doesn’t work, that’ll be the end of it.”

Nick gives Clay a wary, calculating look. A thick minute later, and he’s turned away. “Fine, just… go do whatever.”

“Oh.” Clay’s surprised Nick’s letting him off so easy. “Really?”

“I’m only saying this because you’ve been depressed all week,” Nick grumbles. “If seeing a murderous merman will stop you from being such a mopey-ass, then be my guest.”

Clay lets out a slight wheeze. “Thanks, Nick. You’re the best.”

“As long as you know it,” his friend grins back. “Just promise me you won’t die.”

* * *

Clay was a bit worried he’d forget the location, but thankfully his memory and sense of direction are pretty good. After a lot of walking and climbing around, often checking to make sure he can’t be seen and isn’t being followed by others, Clay has made it to the edge of George’s cenote. He peeks his head in, quietly relieved to see that all of George’s things are still there (Clay was half-starting to think he might’ve just imagined the merman). The place is still as pretty as the first time Clay visited. There are a couple extra things here and there, no doubt added by George in the week they’ve been apart.

There is, unfortunately, no sign of the merman himself.

Clay quickly throws off his jacket and t-shirt. Clinging onto the vines and cracks in the wall, Clay descends down the side of the cenote for a second time. After plopping into the water, he swims himself to the tiny island in the middle of the cenote, made up of a singular rock. It’s perfectly big enough for him to sit criss-cross on. So that’s exactly what Clay does.

Honestly, the plan had been to wait. Clay didn’t know what else to do. He supposes it wouldn’t be too boring either, since George’s huge collection literally sat right before him, a pretty masterpiece that could probably entertain Clay for hours on end. 

But, the plan didn’t go quite as expected.

“...Who _are_ you?”

Clay jolts at the voice. He stares in panic at the top of hole, wondering if a human must’ve followed him and found the cenote, but there’s no one to be seen. Then who…?

“How did you even _find_ this place?”

...The voice is coming from right _next to him_. Clay stares and realizes there’s a dark shadow in the water. He can’t make out the shape because of the ripples, but he immediately knows it’s the source of the voice.

“Who are _you?_ ” Clay asks instead.

The figure emerges from the water, and when Clay sees the creature he unconsciously shivers: black like the void, white eyes, horns of a devil, and a mass of tentacles slowly revealing themselves, slithering around like snakes. Clay gulps, realizes, _huh okay._

_I’m totally fucked._

“I asked you first,” the creature crosses his only two non-tentacle limbs, “human.”

Clay instincts are yelling at him to run, but the panic in his brain is making it hard for him to register his thoughts. First it was merpeople, and now this?! He wants to jump for the wall and hope he’ll make it out alive because he _promised_ Nick he’d be fine, but Clay’s honestly not 100% sure he can outrun that… _thing_. “I’m Clay,” he manages weakly.

“Clay,” the monster repeats, slowly. The tentacles never stop moving, floating dangerously above the water like a warning. “This isn’t your first time here, is it?”

Clay blinks. How did it know?

“Your reaction to finding it was obvious,” the creature replies, as if having read Clay’s mind. Clay’s half-afraid that maybe it _did_ read his mind. It certainly seemed capable of anything. “ _How do you know about this place?_ ”

Clay doesn’t know if he’s supposed to lie. Truthfully, he can’t even _think_ of any lies, because his brain is drawing blanks. “Someone showed me,” he says honestly.

The tentacles draw closer. The creature looks disappointed. “You’re lying.”

“Wha- _no_ , I’m not! I swear,” Clay defensively puts up his hands, “A… a merman showed me this place. I promise.”

The tentacle-monster visibly hesitates. “A… merman?”

Clay nods. “His name is George.” At the monster’s silence, Clay plows on, “I swear I haven’t told anyone about this place, or anything. I’m just trying to look for him, and I didn’t know where else to go—”

“ _George?_ ” The creature gasps, surging forward onto Clay’s rock. Clay jerks backwards, nearly falling into the water from surprise. “You… you _know_ him?”

“U-uh, yeah?” Clay grins sheepishly. 

The tentacle-man still doesn’t look like he believes him. “What does he look like?” he quizzes.

“Brown hair,” Clay blurts. “Blue tail. Fin ears. Goggles,” Clay points to his own forehead, “white ones. Pink skin. Webbed fingers?”

“Oh my god,” the creature blinks, looking shocked. “You _aren’t_ lying.”

Clay lets out a nervous chuckle. “So uh, you’re not going to kill me?”

The monster frowns. “I was planning on it, but I guess I won’t need to if you’re really George’s friend.”

Clay shivers at how easily the monster admitted to his words. “So uh, you know George too?”

The monster huffs and smiles, small fangs protruding from his mouth. “Yeah, we’re good friends,” he introduces, offering one of his two human-looking arms to shake. Clay is secretly relieved he didn’t pick a tentacle for the greeting. “You can call me Bad.”

“Oh!” Clay accepts the handshake, recalling that time when George said he had a friend that also knew about the cenote. “I think George mentioned you before. Though, I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect…”

“A grindylow,” Bad supplies, raising one of his tentacle limbs in demonstration. “It’s fine, I get it. Compared to mermaids, we’re not really a sight for sore eyes.”

Suddenly, Clay realizes something. Bad knows George. Bad is _friends_ with George. Clay sits upright. “Have you seen George recently?” He asks rapid-fire, “Do you know if anything’s happened to him? Is he okay? He’s not in any sort of trouble?”

Bad appears vaguely flustered at the barrage of questions. “George? Yeah, he’s fine.” He narrows his eyes, “Though, he _has_ kind of been avoiding this place recently…”

“What?” Clay’s eyes widen, “ _This_ place? You mean _this_ cenote?”

“Yeah?”

“But… he said he considers this place home,” Clay frowns, his brain connecting the pieces. “Unless he‘s… _avoiding_ me? Because he knew I might come here?”

Bad looks on-guard again. “Did you do something to him?” There’s a warning to the question, a protectiveness edged with a threatening tone.

Clay rapidly shakes his head, not wanting the grindylow to misunderstand. That’s the _last_ thing he needs right now. “No, I— I don’t know. The last time I saw him, he saved me from a storm. But afterwards, he just… stopped showing up. I was…” Clay sheepishly scratches his head. “I was worried. I thought something bad might’ve happened to him.”

“Well, don’t worry. Nothing’s happened to George,” Bad replies slowly, still looking shocked at Clay’s confession. “Uhm, did you two used to meet up frequently, or something?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“...Wow. He’s such a—” Bad sighs, shaking his head, but there’s a smile on his face, “He’s such a seaweed-head.”

Now that Bad doesn’t look like he wants to kill him, the initial fear has gone away. Bad isn’t as scary as he originally thought, Clay supposes. Once they started talking, he could hear how much the grindylow cared about George, and that gave him some humanity in Clay’s eyes. 

“Could you talk to George for me?” Clay requests nervously, “And ask him if we can meet up again?”

Bad looks thoughtful. “I’ll leave him a word. But it’s going to be up to him whether or not he wants to.”

“Y-yeah, of course. I’m not trying to force him to do anything. If he wants to meet again, that’d be great. And if he doesn’t, that…” Clay swallows. “That’d suck. But. I get it. It’s okay.”

“Okay,” Bad mirrors, looking weirdly… empathetic? “When do you want to meet him?”

“Tomorrow,” he breathes.

“Alright. I’ll ask him.”

Clay nods in relief. This trip hadn’t been a waste after all. “Thank you.”

“You should probably get going now,” Bad suggests with a smirk, “before I change my mind about not killing you.”

Despite it clearly being a joke (it was a joke right??), Clay clambers out of the cenote at record speeds, the sound of Bad’s giggles echoing behind him like a haunting whisper.

* * *

“So… explain to me again why we’re waiting here?”

“I talked to one of George’s friends,” Clay replies nervously, his foot tapping with excitement. Or anxiety. All his emotions were mixing up into one at this point. “He said he’d send a message to him about me wanting to meet up.”

Nick looks at a loss for words. “You talked to a murderer’s possibly-also-murderous friend to meet up with a murderer?”

“George doesn’t _kill_ people, Nick.”

“Uh-huh. Just like how you’re not infatuated with him.”

“That’s—” Clay flushes, “Well, I’m _not_.”

Nick crosses his arms, nods in the direction of the horizon. “The sun’s coming up.”

He was right. And as Clay watches the ball of flame rise up into the sky, his nerves start bouncing all crazily inside of him again. He was going to see George again. Or, he _hopes_ he’ll see George again. Was it too much for him to hope? Or would he just get crushed, by hoping too much?

But Clay’s hands are tingling. Somehow, he just _knows_ it’s alright to hope. He can feel it in the air, taste the sea salt in the wind, and it’s like he can detect it. Like he can detect _him_.

Clay steps forward, hesitantly raising an arm. “George?”

For a second, there’s nothing. Then suddenly, the top-half of a brunet’s head slowly rises out of the water, paired with iconic goggles and all, and Clay’s heart lights up as their eyes meet. It’s like an exact parallel to their first meeting, and the memory makes Clay grin. Fuck, he’s so… he’s so goddamn _happy_ , to see George. It feels like it’s been ages since they last saw each other.

“That’s him,” Nick comments, bluntly. He’s clearly not happy about it, though he does look a little surprised.

Clay elbows Nick. “Be nice,” he mutters, before taking a step towards the water. “George? This is my friend, Nick.”

George swims a little bit closer. His full head finally pops out of the water. He looks… nervous. “H-hi.”

“Nick, this is my friend, George.”

Nick narrows his eyes. “...hello.”

“He doesn’t like me,” George notes quietly, looking back at Clay with wide, hesitant eyes. “He won’t tell anyone about us, right?”

“Don’t worry,” Clay reassures, “He’ll love you once he sees your tail.”

“Wait, what?!” But Clay is already dragging Nick into the water, and because he’s the stronger of the two, Nick’s struggle isn’t really doing much. “ _Clay_ , I thought we agreed we weren’t going near the water—?! Wait, my CLOTHES, CLAY.”

“Just take off your top,” Clay instructs, helping his friend out of his jacket. Their shorts might get wet, but whatever. Despite Nick’s constant complaints, they somehow both end up swimming towards George in the water. The merman’s eyes flicker between them, uncertain and unsure.

“Do _not_ force me to swim closer,” Nick warns, and Clay chuckles in response.

“Well, you can see his tail now, right?”

Nick squints at the water. “It’s kind of hard to see— WHOA.” Nick’s eyes widen. “ _Did you just…?_ ”

George giggles shyly, and nods.

“You made your tail GLOW,” Nick’s jaw drops wide-open. Clay would be lying if he said his reaction wasn’t the same. He vaguely remembers seeing it when George tried saving him, but appreciating it while he wasn’t in a life-or-death situation was significantly preferred.

While Nick’s distracted by the tail, George glances towards Clay. “You…” It looks like he wants to ask something.

“Mmh?”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Mad?” Clay frowns. _Mad? What?_ “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I— I put you in danger,” George stumbles, his eyes averted. “Because of me, you— you almost _died_ Dream, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten in the situation in the first place—”

“But I _agreed_ to it,” Clay’s frown deepens. “And I encouraged you, to push me to the middle of the ocean—”

“You did WHAT?” Nick cuts in, a shocked expression on his face.

Clay blinks at Nick’s response. “Haven’t I told you this before? George helped push me deeper into the water, so we could find some bigger waves to surf.”

“You did _not_ tell me this before,” Nick retorts. “And… how did you two end up at the _shore_ , if you swam out all that way?”

“He swam us back,” Clay answers easily. “He _saved_ me, Nick. Like I’ve been _telling_ you.”

Nick groans, falling back into the water so that he’s floating on the surface. “God, that changes _so many things_ , Clay. _Why_ did you leave that out?!”

“I—” Clay sputters, “In my defense, I almost _drowned_ , okay? My brain was still trying to kick into gear. And it was just _common sense_ to me, that George couldn’t have tried to do that.”

“Tried to what?” George echoes.

“Kill Clay,” Nick answers, and George visibly blushes, an incredibly confused expression overtaking his features.

“U-uhm…? Whut?”

“I trust George,” Clay repeats. “He wouldn’t drown me.”

Nick is staring intently at George’s reaction. “...Because he thinks you’re pretty?”

Clay hadn’t expected that question. But apparently neither did George, if him suddenly retreating into the water is anything to go by. “G-George!”

“Oh my god,” Nick laughs, putting a hand over his face. “ _Oh my god_. I finally get it. I’m so dumb. _You’re so dumb_.”

Clay raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“This is ridiculous,” Nick is still laughing, starting to swim back to the shore. “I guess my job here is done. Investigation: finished. Now I’ll just leave you two lovebirds to it.”

“NICK.”

“Make sure you say everything you need to!” Nick calls back.

Clay swallows at the reminder. _Right_. He relocates George by searching for his luminescent tail, treading water as he waits for him to resurface. About half a minute later, the merman pops back up, his face still a visible pink.

“George,” Clay greets gently, “I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

George’s ears flick a little. It’s cute. His smile is cute. “I… okay.”

“Is that why you were avoiding me?” Clay asks. “Because you were scared I was angry?”

“P-partially?” George admits, looking sheepish. “I just… I felt _responsible_ for it, Dream. I knew it was my fault, that we were out there when the storm struck. And I thought maybe… that…”

“That what, George?”

“...That it’d be dangerous,” George bites his lip, looking torn, “For us to keep hanging out. B-because of me.”

“George,” Clay breathes, “Can I hug you?”

The merman flushes, blinking rapidly. “U-uh—” Clay waits patiently, and George gives a nervous smile. “Y-yes?”

And Clay wraps his arms around George’s torso, George tentatively returning the gesture, and they just float there in each other’s embrace, close and warm. Clay doesn’t even need to kick to stay afloat, because George’s tail is enough for the both of them, and Clay trusts George. He’s always trusted George.

“...’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Clay whispers. “Nothing that happened can be considered your fault. You did nothing wrong.”

“Maybe,” George mumbles uncertainly, “But we still could’ve avoided it, if I just hadn’t…”

“I don’t regret anything that’s happened,” Clay insists. “The way everything’s turned out now — I wouldn’t have it any other way, George, because it meant I got to meet you.”

The merman flushes pink. “Dream…”

“So don’t feel sorry for being my friend. You have nothing to apologize for. If anything,” Clay huffs, “I should be the one apologizing.”

George gives him a confused look. “Why?”

They let go of each other, and Clay starts to bring out the bracelet from inside his shorts pocket. “I lost the bracelet you made me,” Clay sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh!” George doesn’t look upset, to Clay’s surprise. “That’s okay, I found it—”

And suddenly, there are two bracelets above the water, one in each of their hands. For a moment they only stare at each other, but it quickly dissolves into giggles as they realize how funny their situation is.

“You _found_ it?” Clay wheezes, “ _How?_ ”

“I noticed it wasn’t on your wrist anymore, once I carried you to shore,” George beams, then hesitantly pointing to Clay’s bracelet, “Is that…?”

“For you? Yeah,” Clay chuckles. “I made it to match the color of your tail.”

George looks happy. And that makes Clay happy. The two swap their gifts and hold their wrists side by side, the bracelets glittering under the sunlight. Turquoise seashells on Dream’s wrist, cyan seashells on George’s. They really made quite a pair.

“We should make one for Nick too,” George grins, his excitement fizzing off of him in adorable waves, “We could give him black and white seashells, and since you already met Bad, he could help us string them together. What do you think?”

Clay takes George’s hand in his. “George.”

“Hm?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow.”

George blinks. “What do you mean? Leaving where?”

“We don’t _live_ at the beach, George,” Clay chuckles. “We’re just on vacation right now. A vacation is a break from our responsibilities, basically. And tomorrow, Nick and I are going to have to start heading back to our homes.”

“...oh.” A disappointed look falls over George’s face. “Oh.”

Clay offers a sad smile, squeezing George’s hand. “I know, it sucks. I just… I really wanted to see you, so I could at least say goodbye.”

George squeezes back, his expression pained. “Will you… come back?”

“Yeah,” Clay nods. “Next time me and Nick have a vacation together… we’ll come back to see you.”

George looks happier about that. “You promise?”

“Mmh.”

“...Thank you,” George blurts. “For… for everything, Dream. For being my friend.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Clay huffs, a smile on his face, “For trusting me. Even when you had no reason to.”

The sun’s completely out of the water. Clay wishes they could talk longer, but he knows people will start arriving soon, and it’d put them in a tough situation if George doesn’t leave now. Clay reluctantly lets go of George’s hand.

“You have to go?”

“Yeah,” Clay hums, “I guess this is goodbye?”

He had started to swim back towards the shore (where Nick has been patiently waiting for him all this time). But before he can even get two strokes in, George is pulling on his wrist. “Wait, Dream.”

Clay blinks. “What?”

“There _was_ a reason,” George corrects, and he leans forward, planting a little peck on his cheek.

The words were unspoken, but it floated between them without need for verbalization.

Clay flushes, taking in the sight of George’s pink cheeks, outlined in gold by the orange sunrise. “George—”

George just smiles. “Until next time, Clay.”

Clay’s heart stutters. “Goodbye, George.”

And Clay safely makes it back to shore, met with unrelenting teasing from Nick. The two friends wave goodbye to George one last time, and just like that, the merman’s fantastic tail disappears into the ocean. Clay is sad to see it go, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about how their “next time” would go down. But he holds onto the reason why George says he trusts him, and it gives him confidence that everything would turn out okay.

Clay will be back. Because George is pretty too.

And that was all there was to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to lady_pomegranate for inspiring this story :) And to all my readers, thanks so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at [my tumblr](https://peppdream.tumblr.com/)? peppdream.tumblr.com


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